Journal of a Mary Sue
by Amalita
Summary: Under construction! Have you ever wondered what it's like to be a Mary Sue? What they think? What the job requires? Step inside my 'mockumentry' as one MS tackles the Phantom of the Opera, and discovers all points and sides to this strange world...
1. Default Chapter

**Authors Note: If I owned even one of these characters, books or movies I'd be raking it in, instead of sitting here in front of my computer in my huge Evanescence t-shirt, writing fan-fiction. I don't know how this chapter or how the story will turn out, but I know I can't do this without the help and advice of the readers (if any). So PLEASE review. But please…be gentle…**

**Amalita.**

_**

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**__**Prologue: Mary Sue.**_

_Mary Sue. The name, or personality if you prefer, appears so often in fan fiction. After all, that's what Mary Sue's are made for. Some of us love to write them. Some of us put a spin on ourselves, picturing exactly how we'd like to look, or the skills we'd like to have so, in a small way, we can 'get' our ideal man. Others hate them, and with good reason. I mean, how many girls can there be in the world, with the perfect figure, the hair that always sits just so, the ability to sing like angel without **any **training whatsoever? The answer, in truth is about 1. No one, but **no one**, can wake up in the morning looking as if they just came off the set of a Hollywood film. _

_But in truth, most Mary Sue's are not born that way. They are styled to perfection, their talents that lie deep within them, like a diamond in the rough, are exposed and gruellingly styled till flawlessness, or until a nervous breakdown ensues, something which can take years. _

_How do I know all of this? Simple. I am a Mary Sue._

_But really, what defines a Mary Sue? The answer seems simple. A girl with perfect creamy white/golden/chocolate skin, who never has a blemish, who's hair is perfect on every page, eyes that display a natural element of some kind, i.e. 'as deep blue as the ocean, as green as a forest glade, as brown as coffee,' who always have some sort of terrible, trouble ridden background and incredibly possess that one unique quality, shared most often, with their leading man, that drives said leading man wild. _

_If she were to fall into Middle Earth, she would most likely be a great swordswoman. If it was Christian from Moulin Rouge she fancied…could you guess? That's right, a great singer, and most likely she would be an ex or current courtesan, just so she could be as equally rebellious, or unconventional as Satine. But just as in the real world, the number of us Mary Sue's born just so, is about 1._

_I was **not** born into that 1. Everything about me was real, **too** real. My hair was coarse. My skin was terrible. I would've given anything to sing and to dance upon the stage, but wasn't exceptionally good at either. My friend Claudia on the other hand lucked out. She was born a genuine. Her blonde shimmering curls, her blue eyes and pale skin, that heart of gold and complete naivety about her great looks. Her mother resented her, her stepfather beat her, leaving her shy and with a virginal innocence and fright that drove a man to passion. She was your typical sweet Mary Sue._

_My best friend in the whole Mary Sue system, Jacqueline, was sculpted, like me. She was your typical tough Mary Sue. She had the smart mouth, the attitude, and the sassy look, but underneath all that, the romantic heart. And I bet you can guess why it was hidden. That's right, the troubled past rears its head once more._

_As I mentioned previously, when you first are chosen to take on such a strange profession, you have to undergo a sort of Princess Diaries make over. They take you in, fix up your features, whether it is your frizzy hair or your pimply chin, and hone the gift you've always desired, that angel voice or that Jackie Chan fight style. It's hard to become chosen for the Mary Sue life; in fact it's rather like being accepted into Hogwarts. They keep an eye out for the genuine Mary Sue's, or girls who hold the potential talent, and bring them in to train them up. _

_And here is the most important part. What makes a Mary Sue? What makes even the most ordinary girl enter such a stunning world? It's not looks; I've already explained that. **Everyone **is beautiful, with some girls it just needs to be unleashed. If you think you're unattractive take a look in the mirror. You may have a beautiful set of eyes but coarse hair. Or beautiful hair but bad skin. That can be fixed. And it isn't smarts. Several Mary Sues, mainly the 'genuine' ones never attended school. Want to know what it is?_

_**Imagination.**_

_It's the schoolgirl who looks out the window in class, and wishes she lived in a world of passion and adventure. The cleaner who wants to take her place upon the stage. The ones who read a lot, fantasise and spend hours on end watching films, as though gazing into an alternate universe, wishing they would fall right through the screen. Just look at Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, and Bellefrom Beauty and the Beast. They were all picked on, treated by filth by the one's who had it all, yet through their dreams they all accomplished so much more than the empty headed blonde bombshell with the dress cut up to there. Your imagination is what makes or breaks you. Imagine it, instead of thinking yourself so beautiful it will just fall at your feet, and you'll probably get further._

_And it will get the most imaginative women in the world notice you. The ones who choose the Mary Sue's. Who take the dreamers and give them the world they rightly deserve. Just like they did with me. And it truly is the best life you can have._

_Isn't it?_

_Some years back as Jackie and me sat down to lunch, we wondered. Is the Mary Sue system totally contradictory? Would our imagination and beautiful minds make us desirable still to Legolas or Christian if we weren't fixed up? _

"_It all seemed so fair when I started," Jacqueline pouted (prettily of course). "Giving us girls who deserved such a beautiful life the chance to look like we always wanted and be who we always wanted. But now I don't know. It's like being put in a play, where the Leading Man only falls in love with you cause it's in the script."_

_These words kept me awake as I lay along side my latest Leading Man, Moulin Rouge Christian, one night. Silently I slipped from the bed and stared out the window and wondered…could I win my Leading Man on my own?_

_Mary Sue. A hard job. A confusing job. With great rewards?_

_Step into my world, and decide for yourself…_

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Alright. Like? Hate? Love? Could be? Maybe? Want to set my computer on fire so I can never write another story again? Let me know! I have to personally admit this was a pretty sucky chapter. But I promise the second will be better. I mean The Phantom's in Chapter Two, so that gives us SOMETHING to look oforward to. Right? 


	2. A new assignment

**For Author's note, see Chapter One. Amalita**

**_Thank you to asp and Han Futsu Anti Normal who reviewed my first chapter! You both rock! And here…is Chapter 2…_**

**Chapter Two: A new assignment**

The sterile look of the lunchroom usually offended me, especially once you got a look at the boss's office. Chintz and antiques as far as the eye could see! Not that we ever spent that much time in the lunchroom. But today, one of those busted up wooden chairs with half the foam falling out of the cushion looked like heaven. I fell into one of them gratefully and let my head slump forward on the table. It had been a long couple of months.

I remember when Liz, the boss, had first given me the assignment. I was ecstatic beyond belief. A few months in 1890's London, in a swish, rich old house, with maids and beautiful French gowns, balls, parties and one very sexy young writer. Would _you_ turn your nose up at _that_?

Of course it was only for two or so months. Unlike a lot of other Mary-Sue's, I was what you call, a Mary-Sue gypsy. We I only ever stayed with a Leading Man for a short while, giving them a beautiful memory to look back on, something which gave them inspiration. A great passionate affair they could keep with them always. I travelled from story to story, man-to-man in this fashion, before eventually deciding I loved him too much to be with him, or I befell some sort of terrible accident. So far, I had been hung, poisoned, shot in the stomach and probably most unforgettably, been stabbed to death by a pack of Orcs from Middle Earth.

But with Christian, I had run away. A notorious Whitechapel gang, who had taken me in when first I 'entered' their world, training me as a pickpocket, thief and prostitute, was hunting me. I had taken up with the leader, Arthur he was called. And when he found out Christian, a very wealthy man had taken a great interest in me, he sent me to him, to take up a place in his home as a ward, in the hope I would get my hands on account and safe numbers and many priceless items. I had not 'intended' to fall for Christian.

When Arthur found out he was furious. He kidnapped the both of us, putting a gun in my mouth and telling Christian if he didn't get what he wanted, I would die. I wasn't afraid of death. It wasn't real. In fact it kind of tickled. Anyway, cut a long story short, we realised we both loved each other, Christian murdered Arthur and I was charged with the crime. We decided we loved each other too much to endanger each other's lives. Christian left for Paris the next day.

My name is Vivien by the way. Vivien Delmar. I've been working as a Mary Sue for 5 years since my 19th birthday. Like every other girl here will tell you, I never thought something like this could happen to me. At home I was nobody. I lived in a normal house with my mother, father and sister. I slept in on the weekends and cursed Monday mornings, worked ordinary jobs and went to ordinary parties with ordinary friends. I guess the only thing that separated me from them was I wasn't content. I wanted to be extraordinary, but not as in becoming a Hollywood actress. But as being the stuff of legend, someone grandparents would tell their grandchildren about. I wanted to travel the world, dancing and singing, having many lovers and men at my heels. I never thought I'd get it.

I didn't just get it either, I got more. I've lived in palaces, in fairy tales, I've taken to the high sea and I've enchanted men with my ways. Well, sort of. Liz made it possible, sort of brought it out, but still it was me in those worlds.

I lit a cigarette and sat pensively at the table, my chin in my hand. I wondered if that world, that storyline was still going, now that I'd left it. Was Christian sitting in his room, crying his eyes out? I had never bothered to ask what happened once we left. I knew, that several girls went in as a _Moulin Rouge_ Mary Sue, as Christian's Leading Lady, but was I therefore erased or were there more than one Christian? If there was just the one I felt kind of bad for him. Between Satine, and me I'd pretty much messed up half his life. A strange bubble of emotion welled in my stomach, an emotion I later came to recognise, as guilt.

I took another drag of my cigarette. Mary Sue's don't smoke normal cigarettes. Those of us who keep the habit were given a special brand of cigarettes to smoke called _French Kiss_. Those of you who smoke will know how much it stinks and how it makes you stink. (Let's be honest.) It turns your breath fouls and clings to your clothes, hair and fingertips, and not even a heavy dose of perfume or a good brand of toothpaste will cure. It may shift it momentarily, but it won't cure it. A _French Kiss_ on the other hand doesn't affect the breath, its smoke clinging to you, but taking on the smell of your perfume, like a scent chameleon. If they had chosen to sell to the public, they would have made a fortune.

A cloud of white suddenly disrupted my vision and for a moment I actually thought I had smoked myself to death. There was no need to fret though. It was only Claudia.

Apparently things were going well with the Prince of the Mirkwood realm. Claudia was dressed in head to foot in white lace and satin, a belt of silver leaves draping her hips. Her hair was pulled back in a traditional Elvan fashion and an Evenstar was clasped onto her neck. The salad sandwich and bottle of Coke she had in her hands somewhat distorted the image.

"Hey Viv! Phew I'm whacked." She sighed breathlessly, plonking down into a chair. "I've been dancing for the past three hours now."

"Dancing?"

"Some sort of Army coronation of something." She explained as she ripped open the sandwich's white paper bag, a beetroot stain seeping steadily through the flimsy paper.

"And how is Legolas?" I asked pointedly. Claudia took an enormous bite of her sandwich and shrugged.

"You know, asked me to dance. Then we went walking in the forest. He kissed me. We'll probably go to bed together by the end of the week." She said matter-of-factly. "And? How was London?"

I smiled, "Yeah, yeah it was good." I said faintly. Claudia eyed me curiously.

"You OK?" I nodded. "Just a bit tired." Claudia turned her attention back to her sandwich.

"Guess anyone who travels as much as you would get tired-Oh! I almost forgot!" she gasped suddenly, carrot falling into her lap, "Liz wants to see you about a new assignment, she told me to let you know as soon as you got in."

I groaned, stubbing out my cigarette. Moving was the last thing I wanted to do right now. Laying my head on the table and falling asleep, now that was more like it. But with a great effort, telling myself that I could be doing SO much worse employment wise, I hoisted myself out of my seat and made for Liz's office, giving Claudia a friendly goodbye kiss on the cheek as I went.

"Don't get any beetroot on your dress." I smiled giving on of plaits a tweak.

* * *

Elizabeth De La Rona. To anyone else, this name means very little. But to anyone inside the Mary Sue system, it inspires great respect and holds tremendous sway, for who should no better than the woman who had turned Rhett Butler's affections from Scarlett O' Hara? Who made Tony Curtis forget all about Marilyn Monroe with one toss of her fiery hair and one look of seductive supremacy? Who put Mae West in the dark?

Back in the early 1940's Elizabeth spent day and night in her East London bedroom, rehearsing scenes from disintegrating theatre scripts, spending every penny she had on talking pictures and vocal training. To be an actress, that's all she'd ever wanted. When she met John, who worked for a great theatre company, it seemed as though God had sent her an angel to guide her way out of the shadows and onto the stage.

Until the angel skipped town with her savings and a seamstress.

Crushed, angry and betrayed, Elizabeth hunted for comfort in one of the only remaining glimmers of light on her otherwise dark horizon. She sat in that theatre and watched that same movie over and over and over again. In the early hours of the morning, the usher was told by the doorman to go and tell a young woman with red hair and a pretty green dress that the theatre would soon be closing.

But she wasn't there.

No one was. He checked with the other ushers who watched the hallways if they had seen a girl with red hair and a pretty green dress leave the theatre. But they hadn't. The staff was baffled. They combed the entire auditorium, front and back of house, the bathrooms and projection rooms, but there was no sign of the girl with red hair and a pretty green dress. They switched off the light and locked up the theatre, deciding she must have slipped out without them noticing. It wasn't until the next morning they found her, lying unconscious on the floor of the projection room.

Back in her apartment, Elizabeth sat down on the edge of her bed, shaking from head to foot. She didn't know how she'd done it. She didn't know why it had happened. She might have believed she'd imagined the whole thing, if it wasn't for the stunning diamond ring that shimmered on her finger.

60 years had passed and Elizabeth could still remember how she felt when Rhett Butler had laid that first kiss to her burning lips, the dizzy euphoria and sense of revenge she felt for John and everybody who had done her wrong! And for 60 years her mission had been clear. To give the same chance to those who dreamt the hardest, who deserved above everything else, that same intense satisfaction. And I was lucky enough to be one of those girls.

I entered the room and took my seat in complete silence, waiting patiently for Liz to turn round from the window. Elizabeth was over 80 now, her red locks had whitened, her porcelain skin had wrinkled but she still held an indescribable power, a strange kind of respect as if one were in the presence of a monarch.

"Good afternoon Vivien," she said at last, not turning to look at me, "How was London?"

"Cold." I shrugged. Elizabeth laughed and sat down opposite me, patting my leg with a formal sort of camaraderie.

"I bet you and Christian found quite a few ways of keeping each other warm." I laughed along with her. I would usually find discussing sex with an elderly person highly disconcerting, accompanied with a whole stack of disturbing mental pictures, but Elizabeth knew what she was talking about. She was a pretty hot tamale back in her day.

"What have you got for me Liz?" I asked. Usually I'd sit and chat with her for a while, but I was feeling oddly out of sorts today. I didn't seem to want to think of London, Christian, anything. Liz handed me a folder containing my next assignment. I put my glasses on and had a look. I could feel Liz watching me, like a mother who has just given her kid a birthday present they've wanted for months.

After a moment I looked up at her incredulously. "_The Phantom of the Opera_!"

"But of course. You are a Stage-Sue don't forget. With your musical and performance training you'd be ideal, he'd have you on stage at the Opera Populaire in a week. Besides he does fit your profile of the ideal man."

"Who? Claude Rains?" I asked non-plussed.

Liz laughed. "No, no my dear, Gerard Butler." She plucked a sheet of paper from her desk and handed me a photograph, of what had to be the sexiest man I had ever laid eyes on.

"Uh, w-when would you need me by?" I was somewhat dazed by Mr. Butler's good looks.

"By six o' clock this evening." Liz said looking at her gold watch. It was 3:30 in the afternoon.

"But Liz!" I whined, slumping back in my seat, "I just got back from London! Can't it wait 'till the morning?"

"No I'm afraid not dear. The 1880 Paris daylight is fast waning and we'd like you to be there when he wakes up. He sleeps through the day, you see." This all sounded so reasonable but I felt so flat. I just wanted to go down to the nearest bar for a few margaritas, then crawl into bed with my Indian takeaway and watch old _Fraiser_ re-runs.

I must have been pouting like a spoilt child, for Liz sighed good-naturedly and said, "If you'd prefer we can put you under." I brightened at that.

"You could?"

"Yes," Liz smiled, "He can find you lying unconscious on the banks of the Lake and put you in bed. It'll give you time to recharge."

"Thank-you!" I sighed.

"But I want you to memorise all the necessary information before 6, alright? I don't want to have to hear that you took a nap in the Solarium again."

"But I was exhausted!"

"If Lily hadn't opened up the lid on the tanning bed before she warmed it up you'd be dead!"

"With a healthy glow." I smiled cheekily. Liz gave me a stern look. But she was smiling none the less.

"Get to work my girl." And she turned back to gaze out the giant window, that looked down upon her fantasy empire.

* * *

"Can't you do this with a pill?" I swallowed nervously. Susan, the medic, to out a large needle of anaesthesia and took hold of my forearm.

"It wouldn't work fast enough." She smiled sterilising a patch on my forearm with anaesthetic, which has that truly vile smell we all associate with injections. "Just practice your scale." She soothed, bringing the needle in closer. I lay back on the chaise lounge and sang the Opera scale to take my mind from the pain, but as it went in I hit a note so high I'm sure The Opera Ghost could already hear me.

Susan shook her head and placed the hypodermic back on her shiny metal tray. "Do you have your luggage?" she asked.

"Under my feet." I said, pointing at the brown leather bag propped under my combat boots.

"Has it got everything in it? Mobile, clothes, information?" Again I nodded.

"Make sure you keep the information well hidden." She was starting to get hazy.

"I always do." Susan rose briskly to her feet, brushed down the front of her white coat and smiled. A flash of pearly white teeth was the last thing I saw clearly.

"See you on the other side." She smiled.

_

* * *

__A great roar of music swirled through the cellars of the Opera House, making the waters of the lake ripple and rats scurry away in fear. Or maybe it was the shadow in the water, edging closer and closer to the bank of the lake, which scared them so._

_Seated at his organ, bare-chested in his flowing black robe Erik remained oblivious to all other sound and motion, as his music filled him, clouded his dark memories, obscured his loneliness and brought him a moment of peace from the hardship and isolation of his life. It wasn't until Ayesha, seated atop his piano stirred aggressively that he came out of his reverie._

"_Ayesha? What is it darling?" Jumping down from the organ, Ayesha darted over to the edge of the lake where she sat swishing her tail and meowing menacingly in the back of her throat. Erik followed her down to the bank and looked curiously into the dark lake. He could see it now. A strange shape. Reaching into the murky water he took hold of it and dragged it onto the bank. As soon as it fell at his feet, he jumped back, partly from fright and partly from astonishment._

_He didn't know how it had happened. He didn't know what he should do. Would it be wise or would it all end in tragedy?_

_What would he do with this young woman?_

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_**Ooh things are getting interesting! Hopefully anyways. OK now, if you read my story and liked/loved/hated it or want to give me a few pointers or if it made you retch PLEASE review and let me know! Reviews are the only ray of light in my dark life! OK a tad melodramatic, but still! Review!**_


	3. Guilt

_Hello! Thank SO much to my 5 reviewers! You like me! You really like me! Uh...yeah. Anyway sorry this took me so long to update. Let's just hope it was worth it._

**Chapter Three: Guilt**

When I finally regained consciousness, I was lying not on someone's doorstep as Erik had intended to do, but on the grand four-poster bed of his guest bedroom. I lay back against the pillows and sighed contentedly. Of course I had known when he gave that bourbon to 'calm my nerves' it was spiked with Laudanum. But I still drank it without question; I was half dead from exhaustion. Not just from my lack of sleep but also from the gruelling fatigue, which comes with that first introduction of the Mary Sue to her Leading Man. It really is exhausting. You have to act terrified like you don't know where you are or who he is, make a fuss that he may have kidnapped you, explain where you're from, argue with him that you _are_ from the 21st century. It takes a lot out of you.

Erik had been my hardest customer to date. See the thing is, I'm not like Claudia. I'm not a sweet Mary Sue; I'm more of a smart-arse. So I had carried on that I had been kidnapped, trying to clobber him in the head, being stubborn and patronizing. I thought of Erik and smiled into my pillow. I wondered if I was the first woman to try and smack him in the head with a candelabra? Judging from his expression…I'd say yes, I was. It really was no wonder he'd decided to drug me and leave me on someone's doorstep. But I wasn't surprised that he hadn't.

Now, here's the cardinal rule for Mary Sue's No. 1: No matter if he initially wants you to leave, he'll never follow through with it. He'll decide although you're obviously insane, (from the Year 2005? Whom does she think she's kidding!) you're too sweet to tackle the big world on your own, or you arouse feelings in him he's never felt before that he wants to investigate or there'll be something about you, which fascinates him, and he'll find he can't let you go. Even if you part ways after you first meet never fear, you'll meet again. It's in the Constitution. The Mary Sue Constitution.

Suddenly my mobile went off and I fell most ungraciously off the bed and onto my arse. I stood up, rubbing my backside irritably and ran to the bathroom where he wouldn't be able to hear me. Everyone knows that all the plumbing in the walls of a bathroom blocks out the sound. I suddenly wondered whether they even _had _indoor plumbing in the 1880's. Could he hear me, apparently 'talking to myself'? I decided I'd ask someone later.

"Hey Alice." I said down the phone. It wasn't my everyday mobile I had with me. It wouldn't be safe; this was a Mary Sue phone that has a special call tone sort of like a dog whistle. To humans, when the dog whistle is blown no sound seems to come out, but dogs hear a high-pitched whistle, and it was kind of similar in this case. No one from the story could hear the ring tone at all. Except the Mary Sue. Clever huh?

"Hello Vivien! Are you settling in alright?" Alice twittered in her high-class English voice. Alice was a kind of Mary Sue caseworker and one of the three people who had my mobile number. She called in occasionally to see if I was hurt or had blown my cover, that kind of thing. She always seemed to know what was transpiring too, everything that had been said and done in my storyline. It was a little unnerving to be honest.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine. Erik's left me here in the Guest bedroom although-"

"Yes he was going to leave you on the street I know." See what I mean? Creepy. "But you changed his mind! Everything's going well so far."

"Well, tech-technically I didn't change his mind, you guys at Head Office did." I said uncomfortably. Alice just laughed.

"Nonsense! _You're_ the Mary Sue aren't you dear?"

"Well…I suppose."

"Good girl. Now you'd better go back into the bedroom, Erik's about to invite you to join him for dinner."

"But…he's a recluse." I said blankly.

"No, in the Dining Room. I believe he's making it now." I had a sudden image of Erik stirring cupcake batter and wearing a pink frilly apron and tried not to laugh.

"Alright. I'll call you in a week or so Alice." Suddenly, I had a thought. "And Alice? How do you know Erik's making dinner? How-how do you always know what's going on?"

"I'll speak to you soon dear." Was all she said, before hanging up the phone.

Damn.

* * *

I went back to my adjoining bedroom and flopped onto the bed where I heard the sound of approaching footsteps and fell once more from my bed onto my arse. Liz had once told me that my clumsiness was part of my charm. I just wished I could have an asset that was kinder to my backside.

As the footsteps got closer I had a sudden brainstorm. Pulling off my shirt and discarding it on the other side of the room I bent down a plucked another from my bag. I had no intention of putting it on until Erik had a chance to see me standing in my black silk bra (of which I was rather proud). This you see would plague his mind, the sheer attractiveness of my half naked chest with my full bosom, a glimpse of my perfect curvaceous form, would haunt him and keep him awake at night. A little trick called the _Romantic/Comedy film_ play. I had read about it in _Cinderella Monthly_, a Mary Sue magazine. I know it's terribly sleazy and all, but hey, it worked.

As the door began to open I tried to look like he had discovered me undressing, hiding my chest, while managing to keep it exposed all the same. Erik froze and stared at me for a moment before turning to face the wall, his face bright red. I tried my best to appear angry, remembering Erik believed that I thought he had kidnapped me, and was holding me here in his house.

'_Cold and sardonic_' I thought, '_Cold and sardonic…_'

"I have just come to inform you that dinner is on the table in the Dining Room _Mademoiselle_," he said softly, though I noticed his voice was a little shaky. I smiled. He was so shy and gentle really, I just wanted to drop this act and show him I felt softly for him. But I knew I had to keep up this act for a couple of days, even though it seemed, or rather _was_, cruel. So with this in mind I snapped back:

"You haven't poisoned _that _too have you?"

Erik turned round fiercely to spit a reply, but once he caught sight of my nakedness again, he flushed a deeper red and left the room, with an irritated gesture as his only reply. I could see by the shadows under the door that he was leaning heavily against it, and I could hear his breathing coming out in ragged bursts. Mission accomplished…

* * *

I stalled for an extra 5 minutes before entering the Dining Room, finally taking my place opposite Erik at the other end of the table. I could feel him watching me as I strode across the room and took my seat. This wasn't because I was falling in love with him. It was because I knew one of the sexiest men I had ever met was taking an interest in me.

I ploughed into the food, suddenly realising how hungry I was. Though he had a plate and cutlery set out in front of him, he didn't eat, only watched me, slowly tracing his bottom lip with his finger. Finally I looked up and arched an eyebrow.

"Is there any particular reason why you're staring at me?"

"I'm just admiring the way in which you eat. Polite yet incredibly…vulgar." He smiled sarcastically. I slammed down my knife and fork and got to my feet, my hands perched defiantly.

"Oh and I suppose you know then, that it's rude to sit and watch someone eat? Ever think of that, eh Mrs. Beeton?" Erik's hands gripped the arms of his chair angrily, and he spoke with a controlled calm. _Very _controlled.

"No, but I am aware that when one is a guest in someone's home, they should be polite to their hosts!"

"Ah yes, of course, how silly of me! How I wish all kidnappers would be as civilised as you!"

"_FOR THE LAST TIME I DID NOT KIDNAP YOU!_" He hollered, losing all restraint, "_WHY ON EARTH WOULD I WANT TO KINDAP SUCH A CONTEMTUOUS CHILD!_"

"I have no idea! You're the criminal mastermind, not me!" Erik looked utterly bewildered.

"_WHAT!_"

I looked him up and down and sneered, "You're right, that is giving you, _way _too much credit."

Erik placed his face in his hands and sighed deeply. Clearly I was pushing further than anyone ever had before.

"I am fast losing my patience with you _mademoiselle_," he said softly.

"Then why don't you toss me out, that was your original idea wasn't it?"

"It certainly was! I was just under the misapprehension that I could take you in and look after you!" This was such a sweet sentiment that I momentarily betrayed my furious front by smiling at him. I quickly managed to regain my composure though.

"So do it!" I snapped, "I can look after myself, I don't need you!" I turned on my heel and headed for my bedroom door.

"You think you're so strong! So adult! How old _are_ you, 14?" he sneered at my back. I spun round to face him.

"24! And how old are you, O Wise one?"

"47." I placed my hand on my chest and pretended to look impressed.

"47!" I gasped, "My you're practically a Lady!"

Erik jumped to his feet and I managed to squeeze through the door before he hurled his dinner plate at me. "Alright that does it! Get out of my sight!" he hollered.

I slammed my bedroom door shut and leaned against it, my heart pounding in my chest. I felt terrible. The poor man had been through so much pain, how could I say all those terrible things to him when I knew he was so gentle inside. I changed into my nightgown and got into bed, trying to think of how tomorrow I would apologize and become his friend. How I would always speak kindly to him and be gentle, how I would make him laugh and smile and come to trust me. And how I would eventually become his lover. This is the plan Liz had made for me, what she said would work the best.

But for now as I lay in bed, all I could think about was the kind, giving man in the other room, and how miserable he felt. And how it was me who made him feel that way.

* * *

_I know I know! Vivien is being cruel, bitchy and nasty to Erik. But trust me, it's like she said, from tomorrow (the stories tomorrow) , they'll be the best of friends and lovers and not another harsh word will leave her lips. So all you Erik phans please don't get mad! It was just an argument!_


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